


Werewolves in London (continued)

by AirgiodSLV



Series: Werewolves in London [2]
Category: The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-30
Updated: 2006-08-04
Packaged: 2019-07-20 13:13:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16137971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AirgiodSLV/pseuds/AirgiodSLV
Summary: "I thought you said the CDC in London was all about peaceful co-habitation."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Some of you may recall that I said there would absolutely be no more of this after the original stand-alone. That was clearly a lie. Thanks to [](https://impasto.livejournal.com/profile)[impasto](https://impasto.livejournal.com/) for editing and snipping where necessary.

Jetlag and a restless night meant that Elijah didn’t make it out of the house until the afternoon, and after a hot shower he felt more human, whatever that meant. He did some cursory grocery shopping and bought a breakfast burrito before heading to the office, his mind still spinning. The events of the day before kept repeating themselves in a muddled tangle, and the piece of paper with Dom’s number on it was burning a hole in his pocket. He’d been unable to leave it behind, knowing who – what – it had come from.

He made it to the office without incident, Dom’s directions still clear in his mind and the Underground map marked helpfully with stars and ink-lines. Dom had even sketched out a rough street map in the corner, with a picture of a building and ‘office’ written above what must have been intended as a stick-figure Sean Bean.

Elijah didn’t honestly know what he was going to say when he opened the door and saw Sean sitting at the desk, but words came of their own volition. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he demanded, stopping in front of the desk with fists clenched. “Why didn’t you say anything last night?”

Sean appeared unruffled, but Elijah supposed that really wasn’t a surprise, given the number of much more terrifying things he must have dealt with coming through that door in a temper. To his credit, he didn’t play ignorant, only steepled his fingers and looked up at Elijah from his chair.

“Dominic is an affiliate of this office, and a valued member of the staff,” Sean stated calmly. “After your reaction to Orlando, I thought it unwise to reveal any personal details about him which might have upset you.” Sean pursed his lips, and Elijah got the distinct impression that Sean was biting his tongue to keep from pointing out that he’d obviously been right.

“You still should have told me,” Elijah insisted, but the anger had mostly faded now, although the sense of betrayal still stung. He was new here, though, and perhaps that trust would have to be earned. He was playing in a whole new ball game now.

“My apologies,” Sean replied smoothly. “I thought you might need some more time to adjust.” He paused, head tilted slightly to the side, gaze shrewd. “Did he tell you?”

Elijah shook his head, and sank down into the chair in front of the desk. He froze as soon as he’d sat, and scraped the metal legs across the floor until the chair was angled to where he could keep an eye on the door. “The bullet,” he explained, touching his chest with two fingers. “I saw it last night, it just took me a while to remember what it meant.”

“Ah,” Sean said, nodding, and Elijah frowned, remembering their conversation yesterday.

“I thought you said the CDC in London was all about peaceful co-habitation,” he said, brow furrowed. “And that Dom lived here all his life, grew up here. Who shot him?”

Sean’s lips thinned, but Elijah got the feeling that any anger wasn’t being directed at him. “You’ll have to ask him about that,” Sean said finally. “But I assure you that Dominic has never intentionally harmed a civilian, and that no member of my staff would ever do such a thing. If they did,” he warned, eyes hard as he stared at Elijah, “I would see to it personally that their career was ruined. Do I make myself understood?”

Elijah nodded, and Sean relaxed back in his chair. “Are there any other members of your staff that I should…look out for?” Elijah asked carefully, thinking of their visitor in the office yesterday. “Others like Dominic and Orlando?”

Sean’s snort of laughter was unexpected, and took Elijah by surprise. “Orlando would never lower himself to working for us,” Sean informed him with dry humour, a half-smile quirking his lips. “No vampire would. The werewolves are less elitist, but just as independent. Dominic is the exception, rather than the rule.” He paused, looking at Elijah meaningfully. “Things aren’t _that_ different here.”

“I see,” Elijah said faintly, although he felt like he was only beginning to, like there was an entire puzzle around him and he was only in possession of a few critical pieces. He didn’t know how he was going to do his job here when he understood so little about how things were done.

Sean coughed, bringing Elijah’s attention back to him. “If you’re feeling up to it,” he said carefully, “Orlando has issued an invitation for you to join him tonight. He wants to introduce you to the other members of his group. Personally,” Sean added neutrally, as Elijah stared at him in shock, “I recommend you accept. It’s important for you to know who you’re dealing with, and for them to know you. It makes our jobs here easier.”

Elijah continued staring for a long moment after Sean finished speaking, before finally finding his tongue. “Are you joking?” he croaked, and barely noticed when his voice broke on the last word. “What does he want, to have me for dinner? I’m not going into a vampire’s lair blind, that’s insane! How will I know how many stakes to bring? What if they get my gun away?”

Sean’s eyes hardened again, but his voice was still calm enough. “You will go unarmed, of course,” he warned. “Anything else would be interpreted as a threat, and an insult to Orlando’s hospitality. You will not be harmed, and if you are I will see to it that those responsible are punished.”

“I’ll already be dead,” Elijah pointed out, only slightly hysterical now, thinking of himself laid out on a table as the main course and surrounded by hungry, dead eyes. “Forgive me if the promise of revenge doesn’t reassure me all that much.”

“You’ll be as safe as if you were here,” Sean assured him, and wrote down an address on a piece of paper, passing it to Elijah across the desk. “If you decide to go, and I really do think you should, he’ll be expecting you around nine. Call me at home if you have any difficulties.”

“Thanks,” Elijah muttered, but he pocketed the piece of paper – the same pocket containing Dom’s phone number, wasn’t that irony? – and stood up. “How will I know when you need me to work?” he asked. “Should I just come in every day and see what’s going on?”

“Night would be more helpful,” Sean replied. “Around eleven, I’ll either be here or I’ll leave instructions for you. I don’t have a set of keys for you yet, but someone should be here to meet you if I’m not, and I’m sure you’ll have no trouble you can’t handle.”

“Thanks,” Elijah said again, with less sarcasm this time. “I’ll see you tomorrow then,” he offered, and Sean nodded, still watching him with shrewd, measuring eyes. Elijah took a step back and left the office, following the directions to get home and glancing every few minutes at his watch, watching it tick ever closer to nine.

He got home and made himself some packaged noodle soup, lamenting the lack of food in his room even though he knew he’d be living on take-out, thinking idly about going out to collect menus when he had the time.

He took Dom’s number out of his pocket along with Orlando’s address, put them side-by-side and thought _vampire, werewolf,_ although he was beginning to find the labels far too simplistic. A werewolf who played tour guide and a vampire inviting someone from the CDC over for tea and crumpets didn’t make sense in his worldview.

He’d made up his mind by ten-fifteen, changed it by ten-twenty-five, and was heading out the door at ten-forty without having consciously decided to do so. He had Orlando’s address, and on the way out he grabbed Dom’s number again, without really knowing why. The thought of being able to call someone here was soothing somehow, even though the person in question was essentially a stranger.

Orlando’s street was in an out-of-the-way neighborhood in Central London, with a mix of run-down and renovated buildings on either side of the street. Elijah found the house and knocked at the door with his heart in his throat, terrified of what might greet him.

No one answered, but after a few minutes Elijah had the eerie feeling that he was being watched. His palms itched for his splinter gun, and he was sweating, the hairs prickling on the back of his neck. Finally he turned, and his breath caught in his throat when he saw Orlando at the bottom of the steps, watching him.

“I’m here,” Elijah tried to say, but his breath was still frozen and his tongue was awkward, stuck in his mouth. Orlando remained where he was, motionless, and after what felt like an eternity of standing there staring at each other he inclined his head gracefully, acknowledging Elijah’s presence.

“Welcome,” Orlando said, and his voice was just as strange and calm as yesterday, sending prickles up Elijah’s spine. “Thank you for accepting my invitation. Please, come in.” He walked up the stairs, passing close to Elijah but without touching, and opened the door, gesturing smoothly for Elijah to precede him.

Elijah was still unable to speak, so he went inside without returning the greeting, walking slowly while his instincts screamed for him to run. Orlando directed him to a sitting room and Elijah perched awkwardly on the low, hard sofa, watching as Orlando sat nearby in an antique armchair.

“I realize this must be very different for you,” Orlando said, his voice cultured and tinted with that same slight accent Elijah had recognized yesterday. “I assure you, our goal is the same as yours, to live in harmony. Perhaps familiarity will lessen the fear, and encourage cooperation.” He paused, expression still, no trace of his feelings on his face. “May I offer you some refreshment? We don’t partake here, but we do keep a few bottles of wine for our visitors. Perhaps some water?”

Elijah shook his head, throat dry, and finally managed, “No, thank you.”

Orlando inclined his head again, and continued. “The first step is understanding, I think you’ll agree. In that spirit, I invite you to ask any questions you may have. I will answer as well as I can, although I cannot speak for all, only for myself and my group, to a limited extent. Still, if you have questions, I would be glad to answer them.”

It took Elijah a moment to find his tongue, and a moment longer to sort out his jumbled thoughts and find an actual question. “How many of you are there here?” he asked, eyes unconsciously darting to the open archway they’d come through, searching the dark hallway beyond for other eyes.

Orlando didn’t outwardly react to his wariness. “Five,” he answered. “Although we are wanderers by nature, so not all of us are here at this time. Solitude calls, when we need to be away for a few days at a time, or even weeks. Our thirst often determines how long we stay away.”

Elijah twitched at the mention of vampiric thirst, but he managed to keep his voice relatively calm. “How do you survive?” he asked. “If you believe in peaceful co-existence, how do you live?”

Orlando smiled faintly. “Contrary to popular belief, or to the customs in…America,” he said, and Elijah caught a hint of distaste in the way Orlando said the word. “We do not need to kill in order to feed. There are plenty of those who find the idea of having us drink their blood a thrill, and from those we accept a small number as our children. If we take a small amount each day, the thirst does not grow beyond what we can stand, and there is no need to kill.”

He paused, continuing when Elijah remained silent. “By taking a different child each day, we do not cause harm to them, or to ourselves. It is,” he finished, and Elijah caught the first quick flash of sharp teeth, “a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

“Why do you call them children?” Elijah asked, a stirring of unease in his stomach as he thought of a twelve-year-old eagerly offering himself to those deadly teeth. “How old are they?”

“Your age,” Orlando answered indifferently. “Or sometimes a little older. Each vampire’s harem varies, according to taste.” He smiled a little again, his eyes on Elijah. “When you are as old as we are, nearly everyone is a child.”

Elijah shuddered, thinking of a vampire’s bite. “It is not entirely unpleasurable, being a member of a harem,” Orlando offered, correctly interpreting Elijah’s reaction. “If it were, I think that you would find we would have less volunteers. No one who comes here is forced to be one of our children. On the contrary, we turn more away than we take. And those who give themselves to us usually stay until we send them away.”

Elijah opened his mouth to speak, doubtful, but suddenly he caught a glimpse of someone out of the corner of his eyes and jerked around, hand automatically reaching for a weapon that wasn’t there.

A woman stood in the doorway, and her white skin proclaimed her as one of the residents, not a member of any harem. Her hair was pale and fell around her shoulders like a curtain, and her lips were painted dark red, and curled up into a Cheshire-cat smile. “Orlando,” she said, and her voice made Elijah shiver, low and sultry with that same cultured accent. “Please introduce me to our guest.”

“Miranda,” Orlando answered, and Elijah shrank back against the couch without thinking, trying to keep an eye on both of them at once. Before, he’d had a chance at escaping if necessary, but now he was outnumbered, and the playful smile on the woman’s face contained an edge of something else, something dark and hungry. “This is Elijah Wood, who has recently come to join the Watchers. Elijah, may I introduce Miranda, one of those who live here.”

Miranda licked her lips, and Elijah’s heart sped up, tripping fast inside his chest. “A pleasure,” she said, extending one white hand in a way which suggested more of a kiss than a handshake. Elijah took it tentatively, and let go almost immediately at the touch of her cold skin, which only made her smile widen.

“Have you already chosen Orlando?” she asked, her eyes moving to meet Orlando’s briefly before returning to him. “Or are you waiting to meet the rest of us before you choose?”

“He hasn’t chosen,” Orlando answered before Elijah could reply, and Elijah’s stomach began to knot as he realized what she must be talking about. “It’s early yet, and our ways are foreign to him. He’s come from America.”

Miranda’s lips twisted into the same grimace of distaste, but then she was smiling again, and moving forward slowly towards him, hips swaying, like a stalking cat. “When you do decide,” she said, her voice seductive, “I hope you keep me in mind. I would be pleased to have you, just as I had your supervisor. You are,” she murmured, close enough now for Elijah to catch her scent, soft and floral with an edge of heady musk, “not to my usual taste. But for you, I would make an exception.”

Elijah was still trying to shrink back away from her when Miranda’s words finally registered. “Sean?” he asked in disbelief. “You bit Sean?”

Miranda’s smile only widened, but Orlando answered, his voice even as always. “Customs are different here, as I told you. It is traditional for a Watcher to offer him or herself to a member of the community as a gesture of trust, when they first accept the position. We return that faith by accepting their offer, something we rarely do to anyone outside of our own harem. It is a ritual to seal the bond between vampire and Watcher, so that we continue to live in harmony.”

Elijah dug his fingers into his thighs, wishing desperately that he could wake up and have this all be a dream, but the watchful gazes of both vampires told him that this wasn’t anything as easily dismissed as a dream or a joke. “How long do I have?” he whispered, shaking at the thought of teeth sinking into his throat and drinking his blood. “What if I don’t…?” He trailed off, afraid to offer insult by declining their tradition.

“You have time,” Orlando assured him, and Elijah couldn’t look away from his mouth, waiting terrified to catch another glimpse of his teeth. “We understand that your ways are not ours, and we will wait until you are ready to offer yourself. Anything less would not be a true gesture of faith, and would not seal the bond of trust.”

Miranda shifted, and Elijah’s gaze jerked back to her, to the predatory way she smiled. “It’s not so terrible,” she said, and let her lips part, showing him her delicate, deadly teeth. “Sean came back to me several times, after the first. I think you will find it, as he did…a pleasurable experience,” she finished, and Elijah felt dizzy, his head swimming with fear and full of her scent.

“You must be careful, in the meantime,” Orlando said, reclaiming Elijah’s attention, although he found it near-impossible to tear his eyes away from Miranda’s blood-red mouth. “Once you have made the offering, other vampires will recognize you as a true Watcher. Until then, you may find they are less friendly towards you, more suspicious. Not all of our kind are as closely tied to the Watchers as we are.”

Elijah nodded, and Orlando stood, inclining his head in a way that gave Elijah the impression that their audience was now over. “You are welcome here at any time,” Orlando said, and Elijah rose as well, trying to mimic the tiny bow that Orlando had offered him. “If you ever…” Orlando began, and then a high-pitched shriek cut him off, a wail of grief and rage that made Elijah’s hair stand on end.

“Murderer,” a woman screamed, and Elijah saw Miranda in the archway blocking someone’s way, struggling to keep her back. The newcomer had the pale skin of a vampire, with red lips and dark hair that cascaded over her shoulders in rich waves. Spittle flew from her mouth as she shrieked, her hands clawing over Miranda’s shoulder as she tried to reach him. “Killer, assassin,” and Elijah saw Orlando move between them, his hands raised to soothe.

“Liv,” he said gently, and the woman keened again, her eyes closed tight in pain. Miranda guided her back, speaking too softly for Elijah to hear, until they were out of sight and Elijah heard a door close. Orlando turned to face him and Elijah’s legs trembled, threatening to spill him onto the floor.

Orlando rested a hand beneath his elbow to steady him, and Elijah was torn between gratefulness and sheer terror. “Forgive her,” Orlando said quietly, and his eyes were different now too, filled with an echo of the other vampire’s pain. “She lost one of her children only a few days ago, and it has been very hard for her. He died trying to save her.”

Elijah shook his head, still hearing the screamed accusations in his ears and thinking of how many of his stakes had found their mark, how many vampires he’d destroyed without a second thought. “I thought you lived peacefully here,” he said finally, his voice only slightly steadier than his legs. “What…?”

“The Watchers are not the only ones who hunt us,” Orlando answered, and his tone was chilly now, cold with warning. “There are others who take their idea of justice into their own hands, and we are never safe from them.”

Elijah’s head spun again, and he felt sick without fully knowing why. “I’m sorry,” he said finally, and straightened to face Orlando. Orlando nodded and his hand dropped away, as he directed Elijah towards the door.

“I think it would be best if you left,” Orlando said politely, and Elijah nodded, hearing the faint sound of weeping coming from the back of the house. “As I said, you are welcome here at any time. But perhaps, under the circumstances…”

“I understand,” Elijah told him, and nodded when Orlando inclined his head again. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

Orlando shut the door gently but firmly behind him, and Elijah suddenly realized that he was standing on the dark street, unarmed and very much alone. He reached without thinking for the piece of paper in his pocket with Dom’s number, but let go almost immediately and focused on getting home, moving skittishly away from the shadows and glancing suspiciously at every face.

His entire body was aching with tension by the time he finally made it home, and he slid the lock into place with an exhalation of relief that didn’t do anything to ease the knots in his shoulders. He searched his room and then meticulously cleaned and arranged his weapons, laying polished stakes out on the bedside table next to the already-loaded splinter gun.

He was too wound-up for sleep, and his body was still confused by the time change, not yet ready to rest. He sat on his bed with a cheap paperback novel in his hand, gaze darting towards the door at every sound, not registering the words in front of his eyes. He could still hear Liv screaming her grief, and see Miranda’s smile as she offered to drink his blood. Nowhere seemed safe anymore, especially not this room.

When he finally fell asleep, it was with the splinter gun under his pillow and the sounds of early-morning London just beginning to stir outside his window.


	2. Chapter 2

Elijah woke gradually, with the groggy reluctance to relinquish unconsciousness that came from too-little time asleep. It took him a moment to realize what had woken him, because the alarm wasn’t set and his phone wasn’t ringing, but his sleep-fuzzed brain insisted there was a reason. Eventually the sound of knocking filtered into his awareness, and he stumbled out of bed towards the noise with bleary eyes, rubbing them as he opened the door.

There was a werewolf standing on the other side of his door.

“Good morning,” Dom declared cheerfully, shouldering his way past with his arms full of grocery bags. “I thought you might not have had a chance to do some proper shopping, so I brought over a few things, thought we could make breakfast if you wanted, or go out, if you’d prefer, I’m easy. I make a mean omelet though, and there’s stuff to whip up pancakes if you want, I wasn’t sure what you usually ate in the morning. It’s after ten though, were you out late? I guess with your job and all…” He paused, head cocked to the side curiously. “Rough night?”

Elijah blinked in bemusement, and realized that his splinter gun was in his hand, hanging uselessly at his side. He flushed slowly, thinking that he must have grabbed it reflexively upon waking, although the fact that Dom – werewolf – was standing in his kitchenette and Elijah hadn’t put up even a token protest was clear evidence that he wasn’t as sharp first thing in the morning as he liked to think he was.

“I went to see Orlando,” he answered without really thinking about it, crossing back to the bed and setting the gun down on the lamp table. “It shook me up a little, that’s all.”

Dom nodded wisely, and began unpacking the grocery bags with every appearance of planning to stay awhile. “He’s an odd one. Granted, vampires don’t generally mix very well with other sorts, but he’s a good enough guy, for a bloodsucker. He’s helped me out a couple of times, although I never got the impression that he was particularly thrilled with doing so. Still, he and Sean have an understanding, and Sean’s been looking out for me since I was a kid, what with my parents and all, and me being…”

Elijah thought he could actually see Dom bite his tongue, but even without that, the guilty look on Dom’s face said it all.

“I already know about you,” he said, to reassure Dom’s stricken expression. “I saw the bullet.” He pointed to Dom’s chest, where the dull silver still gleamed.

Dom relaxed visibly, breaking into a smile as he returned to unpacking eggs. “Oh, well that’s all right, then. Sean didn’t want me to tell you right off, he thought you might need some time to adjust, get used to things and all before you found out about me. I told him it wouldn’t be a big deal; after all, I’ve been working for Sean in the Watcher office since I was nine, almost ten. He knows he can trust me.” Dom’s chest puffed out as he spoke, a ham held proudly aloft in one hand.

Elijah frowned, caught by the familiar word. “Watcher? Orlando called me that last night, Sean and I both. What does it mean?”

Dom looked puzzled, then shrugged philosophically. “It’s what you do, isn’t it? You watch us. Street slang, that’s all. Kind of like Big Brother, only we don’t pay taxes to you. Have you seen that show? I’m not much into reality television, but the ones with the houses? I could watch those all day. They play round-the-clock here, you know. You can just check in and see what’s going on at any hour of the night or day.”

Elijah’s mind had wandered, although he was still keeping an eye on Dom as he kept his back to the wall and calculated the distance between him and the gun with the silver bullets still packed away in his suitcase, and how quickly Dom could move in this confined space to stop him if he caught on to what Elijah was doing. It wasn’t that he thought Dom would honestly give Elijah reason to hurt him, it was just…being cautious.

“I said, have you seen the Iron Chef?” Dom repeated with eyebrows politely raised, a skillet in one hand and an egg in the other. When Elijah nodded, he turned back to the stove and began cracking eggs efficiently against the side of a mixing bowl. “I could be on that show. I know a lot of recipes, my Mum taught me some when I was little, before the whole…werewolf thing and all.”

For the first time, he looked uncomfortable, and it was such a change from his usual openness that Elijah felt he had to follow through and inquire. “What happened?” he asked, trying to imagine his own mother’s reaction to such a thing. “When they found out?”

Dom kept his eyes lowered as he answered, the rhythmic crack of the eggs slowing considerably. “They didn’t. Not exactly, anyway. They were killed by the same…by the one that got me. Only I lived, and they didn’t. Which is pretty weird considering that we had the same genetics and all, but…” He trailed off, uncapping the milk during a lengthy pause. “No one knows why it happens. It just does.”

“And Sean took you in?” Elijah pressed, leaning back against the wall and crossing his arms to listen.

“After awhile. I was with…with the other one for a few months, learning to survive. It’s a rough transition, suddenly turning into an animal and back again without any idea of how to control it. Sean finally tracked us down and killed…and looked out for me, when he realized what had happened. He knew I was missing, the police had been looking. And he knew what had killed my parents.”

Dom shrugged again, and Elijah felt guilty for pushing him to talk, even though he was fascinated by the story. “I’m sorry,” he said honestly. He’d never thought about what it must be like for Dark Creatures, the ones who had been turned and not born. How sudden an exile, from everything familiar and safe, especially to those who were turned young.

“It’s okay,” Dom answered, pouring milk into the bowl and starting to whip the eggs. “How do you like your eggs? I brought ham, and some vegetables, you can look and pick out what you like, and potatoes for hash browns, although we can put those into the eggs too, if you want, and have toast or something separately. Bread, did I remember bread?” His eyes widened comically as he sorted through the cornucopia-pile of food on the counter, and there was a sigh of relief as he came up with a nut-brown loaf. “Whew, that was almost a disaster. So, the eggs?”

“Whatever is fine,” Elijah answered, overcoming enough of his wariness to take a step closer, peering at the selection of breakfast-making items Dom had laid out. “I don’t really do breakfast, most of the time.”

Dom gave him a look which said this was clearly unacceptable. “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day,” he announced, setting the mixing bowl aside to wrestle with the other ingredients. “If you don’t eat upon waking, your IQ is lowered all day, did you know that? I don’t know why, but it’s true. And you need to be sharp, with what you do.”

Dom paused again, head tilted. “Did Orlando ask you to be one of his children, last night? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but I noticed you haven’t been bitten, and I know Sean is pretty strict on everyone getting along…not me, of course, vampires don’t bite werewolves and we don’t bite them, it’s just one of those things, but you…I can see why he’d want to claim you first.”

Elijah was caught off-guard by the change in topic, but Dom seemed amiable enough, just casually interested, so he responded cautiously. “He explained the tradition to me. He didn’t say I had to make the decision anytime soon, so I haven’t. It’s not something I’d really be looking forward to,” he finished dryly.

“You should get it over with,” Dom advised. “Until you do, you’re just another person, and every vampire in the city will be sniffing after you. If you let one of them claim you, the rest will back off. But be careful who you choose, because it’s very…” He paused, staring into the sink as if searching for the right word. “Intimate. Grate these into that bowl, would you? I need to start the eggs.”

Elijah hesitated, debating the wisdom of getting so close and not having his hands free, but Dom appeared oblivious, already chopping and slicing vegetables on the cutting board he’d apparently brought over with him. Approaching slowly, Elijah picked up one of the freshly-scrubbed potatoes and began to grate.

“Do you know them very well?” Elijah asked, trying to be casual while he searched for a way to angle the conversation around to the bullet hanging around Dom’s neck. _You’ll have to ask him about that,_ Sean had said, but it seemed a very bold thing to bluntly inquire about. “The vampires, I mean?”

Dom shrugged, sliding the chopped vegetables from the cutting board into the mixing bowl with one smooth scrape of his knife. “A couple of them. Orlando comes in and out a lot, and some of his group know me. Miranda doesn’t like me at all, I think it’s the whole werewolf thing, maybe. Did you meet her?”

“Yeah,” Elijah answered, shivering a little at the memory of her hungry eyes. Dom must have caught the motion, because his eyes became shrewd and knowing.

“She’s like that, especially the first time you meet her. She has the biggest harem of all of them – that’s what they call them, harems, isn’t that weird? It’s not like they’re having sex with them…I mean, they could be, who knows, but that’s not the primary reason, right? But she has the most children, anyway, and she’s constantly looking for more. I’d call her a man-eater, but…” Dom’s lips twitched, his eyes sparkling as he looked sidelong at Elijah. “That would be in poor taste.”

Elijah stood with his mouth hanging open for a moment, and then surprised himself with a laugh, which Dom answered with an impish grin. “Is she worth it?” Elijah asked, mostly-joking, thinking of what Miranda had said about Sean coming back to her. He was curious in spite of himself, though, knowing it was a possibility and wondering what it would be like.

Dom perched on the countertop, apparently waiting for Elijah to finish potato-grating, and tapped a finger against his lips thoughtfully. “From what I hear, it’s not so bad. They have venom, like snakes.” He demonstrated with two fingers curved like fangs, making a playful strike from his place on the counter. “That’s where the real effect comes from. You know how snakes bite their prey and then wait for them to fall asleep so they can eat them whole? It’s like that. A few seconds after you’re bitten, you don’t even care anymore.”

Dom stopped speaking, looking at him strangely, and Elijah realized that he was staring in open-mouthed horror. “Don’t they tell you these things in the CDC?” Dom asked, and Elijah shook his head. He’d known a vampire’s bite was poison, of course, but to hear it described so matter-of-factly was still a shock.

Dom gesticulated enthusiastically, apparently warming to his topic in light of Elijah’s ignorance. “I sometimes wonder if that isn’t why they’re so successful at keeping harems, so much so that they send their children away after a while, instead of the other way around. If the venom is like a really good hit of a hallucinogenic drug, you’d end up craving it again, until you became addicted. And what’s the pain of a little bite next to that? It wouldn’t be any worse than a needle, and look what heroin addicts are willing to do. It would make sense genetically, too, don’t you think? For humans to _want_ to come to them? Good for the survival of the species.”

Elijah stared, his mind reeling. Miranda had said he might find it a pleasurable experience…is that what she’d meant? “And Sean wants me to do this?” he asked out loud in disbelief, hand stilled over the grater.

Dom frowned worriedly, then took the potato and grater out of his hands to finish it himself. Elijah was so stunned over the vampire revelation that he didn’t even flinch when Dom’s fingers brushed his to gently pry the potato away. “I wouldn’t worry about it,” Dom assured him. “Plenty of other things to think about, right? I heard we might go hag-hunting soon.” His eyes gleamed with excitement.

Elijah smiled weakly. “Great.”

Dom frowned again and patted his hand reassuringly, hopping down from the counter to dump the eggs into a sizzling skillet. Once again, Elijah forgot to flinch away, and it would have disturbed him if his head wasn’t still spinning with vague fantasies of tripping on ecstasy while an undead creature sucked out his blood and made him into a meal. He was finding it hard to imagine Dom as a wolf, anyway. Dom seemed much too...human…for that.

He wanted to ask if Dom had ever bitten anyone, and what he did during full moons, but Dom was shooing him away, wielding a spatula and a wire whisk with the confidence of a four-star chef. “This cooks fast,” he warned over his shoulder as Elijah stepped back to give him space. “Grab some plates and silverware, and if you have any juice, that would be great. I usually squeeze my own, but it would have been too much of a pain to drag over.”

Elijah searched his mostly-empty refrigerator and came up with some ice cubes, which he dropped into glasses and filled with water from the tap. He was about to ask Dom if that was all right, but Dom saw him and waved his spatula agreeably.

“Water’s fine too, actually better for you, it doesn’t have all of the added sugars and such, especially with those store brands and the high-fructose corn syrup, doesn’t really make any sense to me but there you go, ruin something healthy with a lot of extra sugars. You’re supposed to drink eight glasses of water a day, right? So we’re getting an early start. Order up, breakfast is served!”

Elijah barely got the plates up in time as Dom slid the hissing omelets out of the skillet. When Elijah looked in bewilderment for the hash browns, Dom gave him a conspiratorial wink. “Baked in,” he explained, waving a fork conspiratorially. At Elijah’s dubious look, Dom chuckled and passed him the other fork. “Go on, give it a try.”

Elijah cut a corner off of the omelet and tentatively stuck the fork into his mouth. Almost immediately his eyes widened, and he looked at Dom in surprise.

Dom just chuckled, digging into his own omelet. “What did you expect?” he asked rhetorically. “I’m an artist.”

Elijah laughed around a mouthful of eggs and potatoes, and Dom’s answering lopsided grin wasn’t even a bit wolfish.


	3. Chapter 3

_“Midnight is the only time for hag-hunting,”_ Elijah heard Viggo’s voice in his memory, a lesson from his earliest days at the CDC in Los Angeles, and he looked up at the heavily waxing moon above them with mistrust. He had reservations about this excursion, not the least of which was concerning the people involved. Sean was coming along – to supervise, he said, on Elijah’s first time out in the field here – but he’d also included Dom, who was trotting along after them like a gleeful puppy.

Elijah’s main worry was that Dom had no weapons – there was little enough they would do against a hag anyway, they’d have to rely upon luck and counter-sorcery – but Dom seemed completely fearless, expression eager as he tagged along behind Sean and stole quick looks at the dark houses they passed. Elijah reminded himself that Dom had probably been doing this for even longer than Elijah had, but that didn’t assuage the sense of unease at having Dom walking defenseless into danger beside them.

“I see 1954,” Dom hissed, making Elijah startle at the sudden sound. He cast a quick glare over his shoulder, and Dom appeared to look contrite, but still pointed excitedly at the house. “See, over there? This is the neighborhood, she’s at 1981, right? So the other side of the street, but we’re close now.”

“Dominic,” Sean said softly, and Dom’s mouth snapped shut, eyes bright and excited but attentively silent.

Elijah realized he was peering at Sean’s collar and forced his eyes away, feeling ridiculous and slightly ashamed for spying on his supervisor’s privacy. All the same, Miranda’s words had left him unsettled, and he caught himself glancing at Sean’s button-down shirt collars every time the thought crossed his mind, looking for evidence of a recent bite.

“Elijah,” Sean said quietly, gesturing towards the side of a large stone house, outlined against the sky by a few dim streetlights and the unfiltered moonlight. Elijah slipped into the shadows immediately, skirting the pool of lamplight in the street and keeping to the hedgerow. Sean signaled again and Elijah nodded, creeping up to the house and climbing carefully up the rose-trellis towards the only lighted window.

“What are you doing?” Dom whispered from behind him and Elijah nearly lost his grip, catching himself at the last second out of instinct and swearing silently at the noise it made. He looked down to see Dom staring up at him, interested and obviously eager to assist.

“Reconnaissance,” Elijah hissed, and jerked his head back towards the street. “Get back to Sean, I’ll be there in a minute.”

Dom looked disappointed but did as he was told, and by the time he reached the hedgerow Elijah thought he could see the enthusiasm return. Shaking his head, Elijah focused on his task and drew himself up slowly, staying out of the light but turning so that he could see through the window.

It was definitely a hag. He could see the scars on her arms from blood-rites, and her skin was wrinkled like a prune’s, hanging from her as she raised her arms in the beginning of a midnight ritual. From where he was, he could see how her fingernails tapered into claws, and winced at the idea of taking her on without ‘use of deadly force’, as Sean had called it during their brief meeting.

The hag drew a black-handled knife across her forearm, and Elijah saw the red glint of blood droplets before she scattered them over a ramshackle altar. He took note of everything in the room, as well as what little he could make of the ritual itself, and lowered himself with painstaking slowness back down the trellis.

Dom was at his side when his feet touched the ground, but Elijah was less startled by his appearance this time, and merely gestured impatiently for them to join Sean. “He’s in the yard,” Dom whispered, and led Elijah away from the house to where Sean was waiting behind a gnarled tree.

“She’s alone, no victims, black altar blood-rite, the door is closed and there are two windows, one on the back side of the house,” Elijah reported, dropping into a crouch beside Sean. Across from him, Dom did the same, glowing with an anticipation for the hunt that Elijah didn’t remember feeling in years. “Both windows are closed, but I didn’t see any ashes, so she may not have warded the door. I’d say that’s our best bet.”

“Let’s get a move on, then, before she finishes the rite,” Sean murmured, and Elijah nodded agreement, already trying to match what he’d seen in the room to a specific rite so that he could estimate how much time they had left while the hag’s defenses were down.

“Wait,” Elijah said suddenly, glimpsing movement around the side of the house, where he had just been. There was a dark shape in the shadows, moving with purpose towards the wall. The figure was slight, not overly tall, and Elijah recognized the glint of metal from a gun in its hand. “We’re not the only ones here,” Elijah said shortly, as the shape disappeared around the back of the house. “Is that another one of your people?”

“No,” Sean answered, and Elijah looked around in surprise at the grim tone of his voice. “Elijah, get Dominic out of here. I want you to head for safety, but don’t risk leading anyone there if you think someone might be following you. I’ll take care of the hag. Go, now,” he ordered, and Elijah didn’t have time to speak before Sean was moving, following the path that the other had taken around the back of the house.

He glanced at Dom, and was shocked to find him white and frightened in the moonlight, his fingers plucking nervously at Elijah’s sleeve. “Back the way we came,” Dom whispered, his voice barely a thread in the silence. “It’s no good heading further out, we need to get back to the city. He can’t track us as easily there.”

“Who?” Elijah demanded, but Dom just shook his head, rising from a crouch and heading for the street, his shadow clinging to the hedgerow. He froze when he stepped into the circle of lamplight, and Elijah swore, moving out of his own cover to grab Dom’s arm and pull him out of the light, rushing them both down the street.

“What are we looking out for, here?” Elijah hissed as they turned the corner and began to lose themselves in the labyrinth of streets and houses that lay in this area. “Give me a clue and we’ll have a better chance. Vampire? Another werewolf?”

Dom shook his head, stumbling over his feet. “Not an Other,” he answered, and Elijah threw a worried glance back over his shoulder at the shadows, searching in vain for a glimpse of movement.

They were almost back into the city when Dom cried out softly and jerked back, making Elijah lose his grip on Dom’s sleeve. “What is it?” Elijah whispered fiercely, fearing Dom was hurt, but then he saw it, too; the fleeting swirl of darkness where there should be none. Biting back an oath, he pulled Dom backwards onto a side street, and then half-dragged him through a maze of twists and turns until he was fairly certain they were close to where they’d started, only a few blocks away.

“You said this is a human?” he whispered, and Dom nodded, silent for once, looking terrified as he searched the shadows with wide, dismayed eyes. Elijah swallowed his own trepidation and gripped Dom’s arm firmly. “How have you evaded him before? I don’t know the territory here, Dom, you have to help me out.”

“Sewers,” Dom whispered, shrinking back a little further as he tore his gaze away from the darkness. “It’s easier to lose someone down there, there’s more noise and you can come out anywhere.”

“That’s what we’ll do, then,” Elijah decided, although the idea of crawling through the sewers at midnight with a werewolf and God only knew what on their trail was not the most appealing thought he’d ever had. “Where’s the nearest entrance? I want to get us off the street as soon as possible.”

“This way,” Dom replied, and to Elijah’s relief he seemed to snap out of whatever trance he’d been in, returning to alertness as he sniffed the air and headed off down the street. Elijah followed him, keeping a safe distance between them and one hand on the holster of his gun, scanning every street they crossed for a hint of motion.

The actual manhole was in the center of a fairly major intersection, which made Elijah sweat as Dom spent what felt like hours prying it up and lowering himself inside, fully illuminated by the brightly-shining streetlamps. Elijah followed him as soon as he disappeared from sight, reluctantly relinquishing his grip on the gun-butt to pull the cover back into place over his head.

Dom was waiting at the bottom of the ladder, and even in the poor light cast by Elijah’s mini-flashlight he could see that Dom was trembling. “Do you know your way around in here?” Elijah asked warily, worried that they might have just sealed themselves off in a trap. If whoever was hunting them knew the sewers better than they did, they were as good as caught.

Dom nodded, and after a brief hesitation, started off down the narrow walkway at the sewer’s edge. Elijah grimaced at the smell but headed after him, following the sound of rushing water and Dom’s silhouette.

Movement caught his eye and Elijah whirled, gun raised in defense almost without a second thought, but there was nothing there. Dom shook his head, his eyes searching the darkness, and turned to continue on. “Shadows,” he said, and Elijah jumped at the way his voice echoed softly against the walls, fading to a distant whisper. “They live down here sometimes.”

Elijah opened his mouth to ask what exactly Dom meant by that, but Dom was already too far ahead and Elijah couldn’t risk making that much noise. He put it aside to ask for later and pressed on, still watching the dark tunnel for any sign of life, human or otherwise.

A dark wisp of something brushed up against him and Elijah froze, hardly daring to breathe as it coalesced and dissipated again, gone between one second and the next. Dom looked back and saw him, shaking his head again. “They shouldn’t hurt you,” he said. Elijah opened his mouth to retort, still shaken by the cold, misty touch, but Dom was through an archway, foot on the bottom rung of a ladder, so he fell silent and hurried instead to catch up, shuddering at the damp chill on his skin.

They came out in a neighborhood Elijah didn’t know, but Dom led him down another series of streets to a rickety apartment building guarded by a locked glass door. Dom produced the key after a few seconds of fumbling at a jingling ring, and Elijah felt much better once the door closed behind them, leaving them in the dim light of a poorly-decorated foyer.

“Is this where you live?” Elijah asked, climbing after Dom up several flights of stairs, keeping his hands from the peeling wallpaper and bland, crookedly-hung still life paintings that decorated the hall.

Dom shook his head. “This is the safe house,” he answered, his voice still low despite the fact that they were inside now. Elijah understood all-too-well, remembering the fleeting touch of what Dom had called Shadows; the spooky feeling hadn’t quite been shaken.

Dom rearranged the keys on his ring and let them into a small bare room, with a single twin bed and a stained armchair standing on the floorboards. “We’re supposed to come here if something goes wrong, and wait for Sean to call and say it’s all clear.” He gestured to the phone sitting on an uneven wooden side table next to the bed, and Elijah frowned, looking around at the inhospitable room.

“How do you know we won’t be followed?” Elijah asked, checking the window and wishing he had sea salt, although if Dom was correct about what had been tracking them, it wouldn’t do much good.

He looked around to find Dom sitting on the bed, hands twitchy while the rest of him remained almost unnaturally still. “I don’t,” he said wearily. “But no one else knows about this place, not even Orlando. Not the other hunters.”

Elijah’s ears pricked, and he focused on Dom eagerly, sensing answers. “What other hunters?” he asked, remembering fragments of things Sean had told him before.

But Dom only shook his head and said solemnly, “We aren’t the only ones in London.” He padded to the bathroom when Elijah would have pressed, closing the creaky door behind him with a firm thump. Elijah reached for the door to knock and then decided to give Dom his space, letting his hand fall empty to his side.

Elijah scrubbed a hand over his eyes. It was still early by his standards, but the hag-hunting and then their inexplicable flight through the sewers had left him weary, if not exactly tired. He saw a threadbare towel hanging on the back of the bathroom door and resolved to shower, nose wrinkling at the smell he caught wafting up from his sneakers and the wet hems of his jeans.

When Dom came out, he only nodded acknowledgement at Elijah’s announcement, and sat back down on the bed. “There’s a change of clothes in the drawers,” he offered. “Take anything that fits. We try to keep this place stocked, just in case.”

There was little doubt in Elijah’s mind of what that meant, after tonight. He had more questions, and wasn’t entirely certain that Dom was all right again, but when he started to speak Dom turned away, his body language saying he’d closed himself off and wasn’t in the mood to talk. Elijah gave up for the moment, deciding to try again after he smelled a bit better, and took Dom’s place in the small bathroom.

He saw a wet washcloth lying on the edge of the sink and guessed that Dom had taken the opportunity to clean himself up, as well. Elijah peeled off his jeans with a grimace of distaste and folded the rest of his clothes haphazardly, seeing no reason not to put them back on after his shower.

The pressure wasn’t great and the hot water tended to go in fits and starts, but he still felt clean when he emerged, skin pink and well-scrubbed with the bar of cheap soap he’d found in the dish. He pulled on his boxers and shirt, leaving the rest on the back of the toilet, and emerged from the bathroom with his hair still plastered damply to his skull.

Dom was asleep, or pretending to be, curled up on his side in a fetal ball with one hand tucked beneath his head. He’d left the pillow available, but the bed was too small for two people, and Elijah wasn’t tired yet anyway. He sat in the armchair instead, squirming around until he felt somewhat comfortable, and watched Dom for a while, pondering everything he did and didn’t know about this place. It seemed stranger by the day, not at all what he’d expected, and he almost felt a lump of homesickness rise before he shrugged it off.

 _Werewolf,_ he thought, and was mildly surprised to hear it not in Viggo’s gravelly voice, but his own. _Other hunters,_ and he strained to remember anything at all, a snippet of information once mentioned and long forgotten. _Others,_ in Sean’s voice, and his own thought that they weren’t all that strange after all, in some ways, only different, and then he was nodding off in spite of himself, his eyelids drooping as he watched Dom sleep.

When the phone rang, it was in the early hours of the morning, with the sun just barely rising and Elijah jerking from sleep with a crick in his neck, seeing Dom blink sleepily awake as Sean’s rough-burred voice told them it was safe to go home.


	4. Chapter 4

“We have a job,” Sean announced when Elijah walked into the office. There was an array of guns laid out on the desk in front of him, barrels removed and an open bottle of cleaning solution in their midst.

“What are we hunting?” Elijah asked, gaze drifting over the rows of bullet clips and catching no telltale glimpse of burnished silver.

“We’re not,” Sean replied, assembling one of the handguns with smooth, practiced motions. “This is more of a rescue mission.”

Elijah raised his eyebrows. “And the reason for the guns is…?” he asked, reaching for one to check it and clip the magazine into place.

“In case,” Sean answered vaguely, tucking his own firearm into its holster. He made his way around the desk as if to leave and Elijah blocked his path, feet planted stubbornly in place.

“In case we run into the same man we ran into three nights ago?” he challenged, crossing his arms over his chest. “Is that why we’re carrying loaded guns?”

Sean’s expression hardened. “That would be murder,” he stated, and Elijah felt a faint shiver of guilt at his assumption. “They’re a precaution,” Sean continued. “In case we run into trouble. Nothing more.”

He stepped forward again and this time Elijah gave way, moving aside so that Sean could take the lead. “Are we expecting trouble?” he asked finally, and didn’t get an answer until they were down the stairs and just stepping into the street, when Sean finally stopped on the curbside and sighed.

“I told you we aren’t the only hunters in London. There’s one in particular, a vigilante who’s given the Others more trouble than any of the rest of them. He’s good at what he does, and has no qualms about doing it.” Sean reached into his pocket and drew out a battered packet of cigarettes, offering Elijah one as he thumbed a cheap plastic lighter. “His name is Boyd, he moved down from Scotland a few years ago. We steer clear of him whenever possible.”

“He’s the one who shot Dom,” Elijah guessed, watching Sean’s face for a response. There wasn’t even a flicker of affirmation, just an eyebrow quirked in question when Sean offered the lighter. Elijah sighed inwardly and accepted, lighting the cigarette – not his brand, it tasted bitter and thick in his mouth – and taking a deep drag. Sean smiled and replaced the lighter, heading across the street towards the Tube station.

“Where is Dom?” Elijah asked as Sean bought their fares and led him down into the tunnel. “Isn’t he coming with us again?”

“Not tonight,” Sean replied, and Elijah frowned, waiting for further explanation and growing impatient when it didn’t come.

“Why not?” he asked, joining Sean against the wall as they waited for the train with a half-dozen other travelers. “Is it because of this Boyd?”

“No,” Sean answered, and then stepped away from the wall as the gleam of headlights warned of the train’s approach. Elijah swallowed his immediate protest and followed Sean onto one of the cars, taking a seat with his back to the wall and keeping an eye on the others who joined them.

“So what’s the job?” he asked finally, accepting for the moment that his questions were getting him nowhere and hoping that Sean could be lulled into being more helpful. “Who are we rescuing?”

Sean smiled faintly, his eyes on the rapidly-passing panels outside the window that lined the tunnel. “An Angel,” he said, and Elijah blinked, not recognizing the name. “Nightwings,” Sean continued, glancing at him briefly. “That’s the correct term, but I’ve always preferred to call them Angels.”

“It’s in trouble?” Elijah hazarded, a vague picture forming in his mind of a beautiful woman with white feathered wings crying out in distress from the top of a tower.

“Not yet,” Sean replied. “But it will be soon enough. They’re adept at hiding, but this one has been spotted. And if I know where it is, then it’s a sure bet others will as well.”

“Boyd,” Elijah stated, and saw Sean’s nod in the flicker-flashing lights of the tunnel.

“This is our stop,” Sean announced, rising from his seat as the train slowed. “We’ll walk the rest of the way.”

The light had mostly faded from the sky when they emerged from the Underground, and Elijah took a quick look around, trying to get his bearings. Sean stopped under a streetlight and lit another cigarette, leaning casually against the post.

“What are we…?” Elijah began, and then felt his heart lurch as the shadows moved and a woman stepped into their circle of light, face pale and lips blood-red.

“Miranda,” Sean greeted her, and her eyes danced with mirth when she nodded at him, her gaze skipping sideways to Elijah.

“Sean,” she answered, and smiled slowly, a cat with cream. “Elijah.”

“Why…?” Elijah stammered, unable to put his thoughts into order with his heart still racing from the shock of seeing her. “When did…?”

“I’ve been with you from the beginning,” Miranda answered, tilting her head teasingly so that her hair rippled down her back and over her shoulders. “You just didn’t see me.”

Sean turned, and Elijah caught the end of a soft, infatuated smile that must have been directed at Miranda. “We try always to bring an Other along on jobs,” he told Elijah. “It ensures that proper etiquette is always maintained.”

Elijah thought of Dom and opened his mouth again to ask where he was, but Sean was already turning away, guiding Miranda with a brief touch of his hand against the small of her back. Elijah’s eyes darted from her waist to her face, and saw her looking back at him, half-smiling with mischief and amusement in her eyes.

It wasn’t a far walk, and luckily the night wasn’t overly cool. Elijah watched the shadows as they made their way down the quiet streets, but there was no hint of threat, not even the smallest niggling of unease. Miranda and Sean walked ahead, talking quietly, and sometimes Elijah heard the velvet tinkle of Miranda’s laugh floating back on the air.

“Here,” Sean said at last, coming to a halt in front of a tall building that looked as if it had been marked for demolition, the windows broken and stones crumbling at the corners.

“The elevators don’t work anymore,” Sean said as they tugged aside the broken chain on the door to pick the lock. “We’ll have to take the stairs.”

Elijah automatically moved to follow Sean and realized a few seconds later that it left Miranda behind him, ghosting up the stairs silently and raising prickles on the back of his neck. He glanced around once at a landing and caught her smile again, her eyes fixed on him and glinting in the darkness. He shivered and walked faster, hurrying up flights of stairs until they finally reached the top.

Sean raised a hand in caution when they opened the door to the top floor, the night air seeping in through broken windows and an empty skylight. “Quietly,” he warned, moving forward slowly through the scattered debris of masonry and glass. “They startle easily, and we don’t want anyone to be hurt.”

Elijah paused a few feet into the room, waiting for Sean to give him directions, and felt the tickle of hairs against his neck as someone breathed. He tensed but didn’t move, and a moment later felt the whisper of air as Miranda murmured into his ear, “Have you chosen yet, Watcher child?”

He shuddered, and caught himself leaning back towards her scent, rich and enticing, until he felt the brush of her breasts against his back. She chuckled low in her throat, sending shivers of vibration up his spine, and he felt the light scrape of her nails against the nape of his neck before she drifted away.

“Here,” Sean’s voice said suddenly, hushed in the dim light, and Elijah moved forward to catch his first glimpse of the creature.

He gasped when he saw it, and was torn between shrinking back and moving closer, swaying slightly in place as he stared in fascination at what Sean called an Angel.

It was undoubtedly a he, naked as it was and exposed in a half-crouch, black leathery wings spread defensively over its dark-skinned body. Apart from the wings, it looked human, down the halo of black springy curls and dusting of hair over its chest, arms and legs. The eyes were the only other strange thing about it, gold and slitted almost like a cat’s, its focused gaze on them suggesting that it saw well in the dark, much better than they.

“Get the salt,” Sean murmured, and Elijah fumbled for his bag while the Angel watched, a low-pitched rasp coming from its mouth as Elijah withdrew the canister.

“Is it…he…?” Elijah asked, feeling altogether foolish as the Angel made the noise again, along with a dry, hacking cough.

“Highly intelligent,” Sean answered, moving to his side and touching his arm lightly in reassurance. “But they don’t mingle with humans the way werewolves and vampires do. They prefer to keep to themselves, and speak their own language.”

Elijah nodded, mouth dry, and watched as the Angel’s gaze shifted to Miranda, as if finally noticing that she was different. “It looks like…” Elijah began, then trailed off, fascinated by the ripple of muscle in the Angel’s torso.

“The inspiration for gargoyles,” Sean answered quietly, as the Angel’s wings spread and flexed, before settling again in a gentle curve to brush the dirty floor. “They live for centuries, and have been around as long as there has been civilization in Europe. Shake the salt around the perimeter of the room, don’t leave any gaps. We have to make this place unfit for it, in order to convince it to leave.”

Elijah did as instructed, only pausing once when the Angel suddenly shifted, its slitted eyes tracking him across the room and narrowing as it drew itself up to its full height. Its wings spread wide as it rose and Elijah flinched, the canister shaking in his hand as it coughed again, dry and raspy, the fingers on each hand curling and uncurling, showing nails like sharpened talons.

“Finish it,” Sean murmured, and Elijah lurched into action again, keeping his distance as he made his way around the perimeter of the room. Miranda moved beside him as he completed the circuit, and Elijah felt the slow tickle of her nails as she brushed them down his arm.

“I’m sorry, old one,” Sean said quietly, and Elijah heard the click of the lighter before it flared bright, the flame making the Angel’s eyes glint pure gold as it reared in alarm. “Banish,” Sean said, and touched the flame to the salt at his feet.

Fire raced around the room, scorching the salt to ash until it came full circle and extinguished. The Angel hacked again, nostrils flaring, and crouched low to the ground before leaping into the air, leathery wings beating and blowing gusts of air into their faces as it left through the open skylight.

Elijah let out a breath, the scent of burned salt thick in his lungs. “That’s it?” he asked, unable to tear his gaze away from the skylight, listening uneasily for the sound of wing-beats to return.

“No,” Sean answered, putting his lighter away. “It will be back. The banishment has to be repeated three times on three nights, before it will finally leave to find another home.”

“So we wait?” Elijah asked, shoving the salt canister back into his bag with numb fingers, barely aware of Miranda at his back, like a floral-scented breeze amidst the burnt ash. She touched him again and this time he didn’t tremble, and heard her pleasure in the soft purr she whispered against his ear.

“Yes,” Sean said quietly. “Now we wait.”


End file.
